I've been thinking about the GREAT works of L'traaaatchuuure that I have hated. That have simply stunk.
Now don't get me wrong, there are some good ones out there, but YEE GAWDS there are some stinkers too.
Here goes a partial list off the cliched top of my head.
The first book I ever hated....Gone with the Wind. Would it never end, and would Scarlet ever turn into a worthwhile human being. Clearly NO. I finished it on a boat and the only reason I didn't lob the monster overboard was because it was a library book, and then I would have paid for it too. I decided at this point in my life I was NEVER plowing through a book I despised again.
Atwood (I know, your lining up to shoot me) but honest to God...she may be great...and she is a fantastic crafter of a sentence...but for all the toes on every Cupid's fat little foot, these are books to send you to the kitchen to stuff your head in the oven.
Middlemarch...yes it is a great and seminal book in the development of the novel...bored me senseless. Maybe it picked up after the first half, but life is too short to read books I am hating.
Reading Lolita in Tehran. Man I want to love this book. I so want to. I have started it about five times, and I always get about half way through and I am so overwhelmed by stifling boredom I cannot continue...maybe this is her point, the stifling overwhelming seemingly never-ending boredom of living where so little is allowed. If so, I've got it...I won't be picking it up again.
I just picked up, and put down about a quarter of the way through, A Distant Shore, but Caryl Phillips. Now the two protagonists are deeply troubled and basically massively depressed. I can work with that, the setting is dreary, that's OK, I'm hanging hombre....the weird slashed time changes that simply look like bad writing, but maybe are literature's version of abstraction, OK, I'm still there, but then the horrific racially motivated murder of one of the main characters by a crowd of YOBs who had been sending hate mail...sorry. BYE!!! I am only about a 6th in, and we are going to stutter and jerk our way through endless slashed disordered and time destroyed flashback misery to lead up to this? Ciao.
Pere Goriot by Balzac...I was forced to read it in French in grade 13, we read the Petit Prince the year before. I hate them both. What is it about assigning books at school that is such a kiss of death.
SO...My list can go on...
What are your secrets...those books you are ashamed to hate. Those books you are supposed to LOVE...
c'mon, I cannot be the only one with this dirty little secret....